THE MERMAID 

And Other Poems by 

THOMAS McKEAN 




Class TS 2_5^1__ 
GopigtltN" 



9 0/ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE MERMAID 

AND OTHER POEMS 

B Y 

THOMAS McKEAN 

Author of "The Vortex" 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

1907 



Copyright 1907 by Thomas McKean 



All Rights Reserved 



LiaRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

FEB 19 190/ 



If ^Cepyrtght Entry 
CLASS ^ XXCNO. 



no'] 



The Gorham Press, Boston 



/ dedicate this little hook of verses to 

NANCr BRINLET BISPHAM 

in grateful remembrance of her helpful aid 

in preparing them. 



Newport, 1906 





CONTENTS 




I 


The Mermaid 


PAGE 
9 


2 


The Garden of Eden . 


22 




I. Adam . . . . . 


22 




II. Eve 


26 


3 


The Light-House 

{Adapted from the French) 


33 


*4 


To JSfancy .... 


40 


*5 


Good-Night, Sweet . 


41 


6 


The Message of the Sea . 


42 


7 


The True Rondeau . 


43 


8 


Two Verses 


44 


*9 


In A Garden Fair . 


45 


lO 


Go! Little Book . 


46 



{^Reprinted by kind permission of J. B. Lippin- 
cott & Company^ Philadelphia.) 



The Mermaid 



THE MERMAID 

Out of the silver sea a woman's form, 
From crystal depths before the pearl light broke, 
Or night in travail bore the new-born day. 
Rose from the boundless deep in beauty clad. 
From angels or from devils having seized 
The secret of the skies, the earth, the sea, 
And underneath the water limitless. 

Within the confines of her hidden pool 
She easily with aimless labour darts, 
Now hiding in some cleft, or diving low 
To sound the lucid waters, till she creeps 
With laughter light, and grace of elfin sprite. 
Up to her couch among the rocks, to sing 
Her songs, sweet music full of love, or death 
To those, who listen and obey her call. 
Grey was the whispering sea, and grey the rocks. 
And wan was she, the while the moon-kissed rays 
Were dying, and she grasped their silver strands 
To weave a coronal, or else to deck 
Their glistering brightness on her supple limbs; 
As one by one are loosened, these she seeks 
To seize, but all are lost within the depths 
Of brine beneath, yet rise a second time 



As foam that touches timidly the base 

On which she lies. The music of the spheres 

Grows louder as she sighs her lullaby, 

Till thunder greets the ceasing of Night's pain, 

And lazily the mermaid ends her song 

To watch the advent of the tender day. 

A sudden silence rends the ardent east, 

While o'er the scene a softness slowly spreads 

To kiss the teeming earth, the sea, the sky, 

With blushes, which dispel the leaden hue, 

That Night had used before so lavishly. 

A little sigh, an idle puff of wind. 

Now whispers to the ever-curling waves, 

Which ruffle soon the bosom of the deep, 

In fugues of never-ending cadences. 

Before the glow, which stretches forth on high. 

Fast fades the noble face of mystic Night, 

That face, which bears the splendid stamp of death, 

Until within the twinkling of an eye. 

Rides forth the sun in majesty of gold. 

A change has come upon the prospect new. 

And stains with colours delicate and soft, 

All nature in sweet hues of happiness. 

Till where a short time since dark sadness reigned, 

And hearts were great with sorrow infinite, 

Now shines the eye of God all joyously 



10 



To change the souls of all created things, 
To feed, to calm their spirits with His peace. 
Not so the syren, for her heart is flint; 
Her eyes, those windows of the living soul. 
Are narrowed till two lines alone appear. 
And coldly gleam, the face is pallid, set. 

And strong the force of her devouring greed. 
Her head within the hollow of her arm 
Is pillowed, and thus motionless she waits, 
Save where in rhythmic measure slow she waves 
Her scaly tail like some wild tiger's mate. 
Still slower breaks her evanescent smile. 
And cold her mood like some volcano sleeps. 
To flash in sudden splendour, which destroys, 
Then whirls her victim to his watery tomb. 
In marble calm she patient bides her time. 
Like some cold snake in seeming torpor wrapt. 
She waits all coiled to give the deadly thrust, 
Which drives her trembling prisoner to his fate. 
A symphony of cruel loveliness. 
She sings her fascinating roundelay. 
And looks nor east nor towards the distant west. 

But bends her gaze intent on hazy space. 
What are the thoughts bound in her stony breast. 
What are the horrid deeds she plans to do ^ 



11 



What needs for vengeance, must so fair a shape 

Thus harbour malice ? Ask the moaning waves, 

Which cry their message to eternity. 

Or seek the sphinx, v^ithin v^hose pulseless heart 

Is locked the secrets of the ages dead. 

And strive to read the ansv^er if ye can! 

O'er rippling weaves in silence frigid still 

She follows in its flight a winged gull, 

And purls half sleepily her rhapsody. 

As if she charmed to rest some tired child. 

With pauses frequent ever and anon 

She moves with sensuous grace her languid frame, 

And stretches out her arms above her head. 

In passionless desire of love's delight; 
For now insensibly the hypnotic chant 
Gains force as more intense the music grows. 
And thus she rests her cheek upon her hand, 
The while her elbow pointing towards the line, 
Which marks the meeting-place of Heaven and 

earth, 
Decries a sail. Another comes apace, 
And straight expectant grows the cruel mouth, 
As in and out her pointed tongue, her lips 
Caresses; lurid pants the melody. 
And wings of tiny craft athwart the deep 
Sail yon and hither, till unlike the rest. 
One drifts apart and sails away alone. 



12 



There, solitary sits a fisherman, 

His nerveless hand the tiller feebly grasps. 

That answers only to the madrigal. 

So swiftly runs the craft, nor heeds the man 
A warning from his friends, who shout to him. 
But rushes on to some compelling spot; 
His looks are wild and haggard are his eyes. 
Yet once he turns and looks despairing back. 
Alas! the little fleet is dimly seen. 
And ghostly falls the picture on his view. 
For drifting clouds of mist are blotting out 
The scene of loving friends and distant home. 
Within a world of ever growing white, 
With pallid countenance and staring gaze. 
Aye drifts he on, all distant from his course. 
Bereft of reason and sweet memory. 
Naught hears be but the sound of music sweet. 
Which strikes with dull insistence on his ear, 
And o'er and o'er again the raucous beat 

Marks on his throbbing heart a purple wound; 
He heeds it not, the numb unconscious pain. 
But yields himself like one, who soon must die. 
With hair all matted on his humid brow. 
As louder swells the false triumphant note. 
The mist is lifting and the wretched fool 



13 



Perceives too late the angry line of white, 
Straight in his path, where lo! the foaming waves 
Now crown the hoary head of rocks and hide 
The circling waters of the deadly pool. 
Above whose horrid depths the syren lies. 
For one brief trembling instant he has cast 
An upward glance, then all fades from his sight, 
But in that glance, he sees her radiant face, 
Framed by the mass of pallid sea-green hair. 
Just as the boat upon the cruel rocks 

Is ground to atoms, sudden swift she bends. 
And draws him senseless up as hunters snare 
Their nets around the splendid king of beasts. 
Yet, quiet as he seemed beside her there. 
No motive quivered in her bird-like look. 
Nor glance of blood-warm human sympathy. 
For claw-like hands, which do not grasp or snatch, 
Are inconsistent with the eyes that gloat. 
And pierce his seeming form inanimate. 
Now that he rests beside her, hers indeed. 
What is her sentiment or what her plan ? 
Can seer or sybil filled with fervour rapt 
E'en guess the final scroll of her desire, 
Or solve the meaning of her attitude ^ 
Implacable, immovable, she bides. 
Though not in mood, uncertain, wavering. 



14 



But rather like some ancient deity, 
Upon whose lofty pleasure patience waits. 
With some rude implement her hair she combs, 
As warbling low her Lydian measures sweet. 
She heedeth not the unconscious fisher lad. 
Poor victim he, of circumstances rare. 
Insensible to words or bantering look, 
A life suspended in a woman's power, 
Awaits the fiat of her sleeping word. 
A word, a passing look, her very will 
Shall summon him to rapture of despair. 
Or by their action drive him to his death. 
What unknown seedling borne by idle wind 
Shall fall by chance indeed on fertile ground. 
Or natheless hap to find its final home 
Amid some rocky soil all rank with weeds 

And perish wretchedly .? God knows the life 
Of every living one and orders it 
According to His Will. We fail to see 
The meaning of His wisdom great and good. 
Oft losing sight in human ignorance. 
Of what he knoweth best is for our need. 
Here is a man of honest life and parts. 
Encircled firmly by the wily plots 
Of an enchanting syren, who intends 
To order him to do her certain will. 



15 



Her presence is the ground on which he sleeps, 
What shall the harvest prove itself to be ? 
Thrice wretched seed! blown hither by the force 
Of her desire, on her depends your goal. 
Can love awake in such a being's heart. 
Or has she saved him merely to destroy ? 

If she all loveless magnetises thus, 
And draws him from his own familiar hearth. 
She must eradicate the deep-set thought 
Of sweet-faced loving wife and children three. 
Before she can obtain her power and end. 
One passing glance into her cruel eye. 
Has killed the tendrils of his daily life. 
The mind within his body is a blank. 
And ripe for ultimate development. 
We cannot tell why He, who overlooks 
Should bring designedly this guileless soul 
Into deliberate danger; for what end .? 
Is there a danger lurking ^ wait and see. 
A sudden change came o'er her reverie. 
That bridged the awful chasm of her thought. 
As eyes are fixed upon the offing dim. 

Where rides the remnant of the fisher fleet. 
Upon the pinions of a fitful breeze 
The clouded atmosphere is carried on. 



16 



Embracing with its subtle restlessness, 
The waiting group of baffled anxious men. 
They, still in consternation of the plight. 
Which robbed them of their comrade suddenly. 
Directed frightened looks towards the line 
Of his departure, but they feared to seek 
The hidden way and follow in his wake. 
Too well they knew the secret of the maid. 
Who dwelt beside the dreaded rocky coast, 
And oft the lengths of winter nights were filled 
With stories of her loveliness and charm: 
These tales like songs of ancient minstrelsy 
Were told from father unto youthful son; 

But horror mingled with the story too. 

And blood would freeze within the youthful veins 

Of those, who listened and a cry of fright 

Would break upon the hush, the bated breath. 

Which ever greet the telling of such tales. 

Oft in the stillness of the quiet night, 

One of these little tender ones would moan. 

And starting, cry upon its mother's breast, 

Mistaking dreams for dim reality. 

The dream was always of a maiden fair, 

A maiden with a voice of velvet soft. 

Who smiled and singing smiled yet once again; 



17 



Then sudden came a change upon that smile, 
And lo! each child awoke and sobbing said: 
The grinning semblance of a mask of death 
Had darkly flashed before his waking eye; 

The fathers laughed, but in their laughter lurked 

The shadow of a mirthless gayety: 

For man reputed to have looked upon 

The syren's lovely face had ne'er returned, 

But many a one had heard her liquid tones. 

And hearing crossed themselves all piously. 

How many baseless fears in life are found. 

Against which struggles are of no avail. 

And arguments or reason give no aid 

To their solution ? When the mind is warped. 

And thus is forced into a stilted groove. 

How can our human judgment fail to give 

A nerveless rein to our presentiment ? 

Such fears there are, which have no basis deep, 

And just because they are unreal and false, 

Bring greater trouble and uneasiness. 

The group of men now meet in council grave. 
To find a means, if possible, to help 
Their vanished comrade, but the way proved hard 
To seek, for they feel soon that God himself 



18 



Is far away, and in His saving stead, 

They, face to face with something must contend. 

Which lacks the touch of human kindliness, 

Itself relentless, powerful and dark. 

Against the unknown forces all unseen. 

What armour shall withstand the arrows sharp. 

Which pierce the very soul and wound the heart, 

Or what strong shield shall ward away the slings. 

Impelled by powers themselves invisible ? 

More dauntless men than these can ne'er be found. 

Brave, fertile in resources all of them. 

Who pray to God for guidance in their need. 

Declaring Him their Heavenly Father wise. 

Whose counsel must be sought by fervent prayer, 

And gained alone, in lowly postures bowed 

Before the Throne of Grace, the Judgment seat. 

The murmur of their agitated words. 

By wanton winds are wafted slowly back, 

To where the mermaid sits relentlessly. 

Beside her fallen victim, calm, inert. 

A cunning look, the burden of the breeze 

Imparts, a cruel glance of subtlety. 

And turning with a sigh of tenderness, 

Upon whose tendrils clings a feline grace. 

She seeks to hold him in subjection firm. 



19 



She knows full well a touch with passion fraught, 
Will call him from the regions cold and drear, 
Half-way between the realm of Sleep and Death, 

Whence he has slowly drifted by her will. 
Yet once again to waking consciousness. 
Why does she hesitate, what motive rears 
Its ugly head and peers between the web 
Of her desire ? What hidden silence chokes 
The advance of her destroying poisoned lips. 
Which in a kiss of deep intensity. 
Will bare and germinate the desert waste 
Of his poor simple soul ? and by this kiss 
She finally will seal him for her own. 
The fishermen beyond the fragile pale 
Of her dominion know full well the force. 
The fearful vigour of her inmost thought; 
From stories too, they all have surely learned 
Of what they fear must be their comrade's end. 
But still in force they hope to win the strife, 

And pushing forward with concerted strength. 

They plan to storm the wind-swept citadel. 

The advance once started hearts grow brave and 

light. 
Till sudden every man rests on his oar, 
And listens to a distant cry of fear. 



20 



Which rings with sadness of a parting knell, 
Upon their quaking hearts; alas! they know 
The interpretation of that cruel sound, 
And bow their heads weighed down by sorrow's 

yoke; 
Yet while they sadly wend their homeward way, 
They blanch in terror, as they fainter hear 
The cloying sweetness of her mocking song, 
A song of love, of sleep and sudden death, 
A soul's despairing and a woman's face; 
But in the cadence of the lay they read. 
As god the Father willed from knowledge vast. 

The lesson of his sentence ultimate: 
" It is His Will," they cry in unison. 
And comforted, they praise His Holy Name, 
Accepting calmly with their simple faith. 
The strength of His omnipotent decree: — 
The curtain drops and finished is the play. 



2X 



THE GARDEN OF EDEN 
I 

In ancient days before the world began, 
God spoke in majesty of power and might, 
And made the earth and all that therein is. 
The lakes, the mountains too, the land and sea; 
In six full days He fashioned it, and when 
His labour finished was, He took His rest 
Upon the seventh, looking on his acts. 

He made the sun to shine by day, the moon 
By night, the waters underneath the earth, 
And all the treasures in it made He too. 
The labours of the Lord were set apart. 
One act of great dominion for each morn, 
For, at the first the earth was shapeless, void, 
And darkness brooded on the water^s face. 
His spirit moved upon the deep and cried: — 
**Let there be light," and straightway o*er the 

world 
A bright light shone, dividing day from night; 
And thus was ended the initial work. 



22 



Next God divided earth from lofty Heaven, 
The waters from the land, and He decreed. 
That grass should grow upon the fertile land. 
And lo! He saw the sight of all was good. 
He caused the teeming herb to put forth seed. 

And budding trees all great with luscious fruit. 
Within whose essence lies the seed, were brought 
To fulness in the smiling meadows' breast. 
The restless waters too were troubled sore. 
And brought forth fish, each of its several kind. 
Increasing thus according to His Will: 
Out of his loving heart created He 
Fowls of the air and every living thing. 
Creeping, crawling, every moving creature. 
Each one from Mother Earth evolved and formed. 
Then lastly, made He man in image like 
Unto Himself, to have dominion o'er 
All things created, male and female both. 
And food for all He did provide as well. 
So, God the Father made and fashioned man 
From dust of earth and in his nostrils breathed 

The breath of life to be a living soul. 
The seventh day became an holy one. 
And God almighty blessed and hallowed it. 



23 



For on that day He rested from His task. 

In Eden planted God a garden fair, 

With trees abounding pleasant to the sight, 

The tree of life itself, of knowledge good 

And evil in the midst; the river too. 

Which rose and flowed from it, a four-fold stream, 

God in the garden put the new-made man 

To tend and keep it, giving of his care. 

And told him he might freely eat the fruit 

Of all the trees save that of knowledge of 

The good and evil of the world of man. 

** The penalty for this malfeasance grave, 

Or disobedience of my Will, is death." 

God, walking in the garden sweet, thus spoke: — 

'' It is not good for man to be alone. 

And I shall bring an help-mate unto thee, 

Oh ! Adam, first the tiller of the soil. '' 

A multitude of cattle, beasts and fowls 

He brought into the garden, and He said: — 

** These creatures shalt thou name with names of 

thy 
Devising, finding doubtless from their fold 
An help-meet worthy of thy caliber." 
But, from the motley crew of winged birds, 
Of cattle horned, or creeping creatures, none 
Were so considered by the man as fit 



24 



To be a true companion unto him. 
The Lord on Adam's shoulder placed His hand, 
And straightway fell on him a sleep profound; 
Then God stretched forth and deftly took a rib 

From Adam's side, and swiftly closed the wound, 

While from the rib He made a woman fair. 

To be a sweet companion unto him. 

Who from the earth had come, a human soul. 

God took the perfect form, the woman made 

From man, and led her unto him, then cried 

The husband: — ** She shall be bone of my bones 

And flesh of my flesh; Eve shall she be called. 

The universal Mother of the world. 

And she of her free will shall leave her home 

And cleave to me, for we shall be one flesh," 

So, God within the garden left them there. 

Both naked, yet in innocence complete. 

They, hand in hand, the lovely pathways sought. 

To dwell therein in happiness and peace. 



25 



II 

''Eve" 

One evening when the embers of the sun 

Were dying and the orange of the sky 

Was drifting from its royal purple tint 

To fainter pinks, Eve sat among the flowers, 

In meditation, born of idleness. 

It was a moment for a poet's dream, 

When hearts are full of indefinable 

Regret, spun of a subtle gossamer 

Of irridescent woof, the rainbow bridge, 

Upon whose fragile span, in idle mode, 

Our thoughts drive on, untamed and fugitive. 
Impressions grow more trackless, as the greys 
Of night replace the lengthening shades which hide 
The splendid pageant of the dying day, 
Then clouds with molten silver lining hued, 
Obscure the tangled webs of our desire. 
And feebly clutch the heart in strife to wound 
Its peace. The drowsy murmur of the bees 
Is stilled, and as the shades of evening fall. 
The inward tremor of our deeper thoughts 
Is hushed amid the silence of the hour 
And stays the unfinished labour of the mind. 
The fretted passion of the throbbing night 
Absorbs the peace within our beating hearts, 



26 



And cheers the pregnant hush of tenderness, 
Which clothes our very being with its strength. 

A gentle murmuring among the leaves, 
Told to the untutored v^oman lying there, 
That those soft chords of closest harmony, 
Played by the wanton winds invisible, 
Announced the rising of the silver moon: 
The prelude o'er a ghostly voice then broke 
Upon the sweetness of the instruments, 
And filled the hollows of the lambent breeze 
With ecstasy. A song of wonderful 
Compelling strength, intangible yet tinged 
With dire intensity, although the words 
And meaning were enwrapped in mystery. 
Smote on her spirit with insistent beat. 
But placed no tension on her supple mind. 
She heard and listened eagerly until 
The orb of night poured forth its mantling rays 

Of pearly glow o'er all the magic scene. 
And, then she saw the singer motionless; 
It was not Adam, as she fondly hoped. 
But subtlest of the beasts, the fowls, the birds. 
Which God had brought into the confines of 
The garden, there the serpent stood revealed, 
All coiled about a tree, regarding her. 



27 



No word she spoke, but as she met its eye, 
The song was stilled, and slyly it returned 
Her smile, in plaintive fashion, cold, intense. 
With glance of stone still glassy fixed on her, 
The serpent glided to her feet; no fear she had, 
But laughed aloud, when lo! it slowly spoke: — 
'* Oh! lady Eve, I fain would go with thee, 
Within this garden fresh and green, and show 

The magic wonders hid within its space, 
Those wonders in the moon-light best revealed, 
Whose knowledge will bring love and power divine; 
Oh! fairest lady, come, oh! come with me. 
That I may teach thee of that wondrous faith. 
By which high mountains move in orbits great, 
And I will show thee too, the kingdoms of 
The earth, and all the precious treasures massed 
Therein. By lofty power within me placed, 
I'll give thee certain means to see the world 
In all its phases, bring delight to thee 
And shower bounties on thy glorious form. 
Oh! taste but for an instant of that food. 
The luscious fruit, which in the centre stands, 
And thou shalt then possess the splendid world: 
The earth is God's and all that therein is, 



28 



But thou and thine shalt surely share it too.'* 
The woman smiled and marked the reptile glide 
Into the piath of light, then shyly rose 
And fluttered in its wake. With trembling steps, 
She strove to follow hesitating, for 
She felt the lack of logic in the speech: 
Deductions such as these from premise false. 
Instinctively, she knew should not affect 
Her judgment, but she did not have the force 
To follow her convictions. Questions like 
To these depend on instinct, quite as much 
As on intrinsic knowledge drawn in fact 
From standards recognised by all as such, 
And, so at least, she paused in panting fear; 
The reptile turned and scanned her pallid face. 
It noted well her trembling hands, but kept 

Its gravest glance upon her eye, and then 

Began to speak: — ** Why think ye God Himself 

Created you and yours .? What was His plan. 

His purpose in so doing ? Is it right 

For you to be in ignorance of what 

He knows is best .? Ye are but captives true. 

For you and Adam are but creatures, herej 

Within this little world, because ye will 

Not raise your hand to grasp the certain means 



29 



To free yourself and learn your destiny.'* 
The wily reptile wavered, and Eve paused 
In anguish, striving to deride her fears, 
That made her stop, in indecision, but 
Again she trembled, as the thought of God, 
To whom they owed their very being tried 
To ensnare the faith of her discovered friend, 

Intruding on her wayward thoughts, she felt 

Herself at last to be possessed and held 

By burning anguish. Meanwhile as she walked 

All slowly onward, sudden with a gasp, 

She cast her eyes upon the fatal tree. 

Her indecision vanished, when the snake 

With ready courtesy, held forth the fruit, 

A rosy apple; this she took and held 

Against her breast. The pangs of conscience were 

Appeased, for now the golden prize is won. 

And turning, calls she Adam to her side. 

She holds the ripened fruit against her lips. 

And smells it long before her pearly teeth 

Break through the skin and hands the remnant^to 

Her mate; then flees away to hide herself. 

With mounting blushes dyed. So Adam too 

In mad despatch, to some close bower hies, 
For both were conscious of their nakedness, 



30 



And feared the anger justiiflable 
Of their dear Lord, for they alas! both feared 
To die. But all too soon they hear His voice, 
And hide themselves in terror and despair. 
*"Come forth, ye sinful children," cried the Lord, 
** Ye shall not die, but this shall be your lot. 
You, Adam, shall endure by labour hard. 
With sweat shall ye prepare the ground, to earn 
Your daily bread; and you, my Eve, my child. 
Why have you done this thing?'' Eve answered 

thus: — 
** The serpent tempted me, and I did taste 
The fruit of disobedience to Thy will: 
To Adam gave I too, and he did eat.'' 
** List! woman, this shall be thy wretched fate." 

The Lord began in sadness infinite, 

** In trouble shalt thou bring forth children, and 

I greatly will increase thy sorrow's pain: 

But, thou, oh! wretched reptile, devil clad 

In serpent's form, now get thee hence, and go 

Upon thy belly so for evermore. 

Ye all from dust were made, and once again 

To dust ye shall return, and so I drive 

Ye from this Paradise, for fear ye eat 

The fruit upon the tree of life, and live 

For aye." Thus sadly went the twain away 



31 



Into the world of pain, and standing there 
A cherubim with flaming sword, that turns 
In every way, shall safely keep the path 
Of Hfe, and sternly halt the steps of sin. 



32 



THE LIGHT-HOUSE 

The wind-blown off-shoot of a parent stem, 
Once tendril of the west-most diadem 
Of Brittany, rough-hewn, but now detached 
From helpless headlands, which in sadness 

watched 
Their wayward child, adrift upon the deep 
And foaming fields; where lo! the dizzy leap. 
From rocky coast in splendid disarray. 
Off-clefts, in subtle mode, as night from day. 
The island from the mainland; thus the waif 

Goes on its lonely mission, anchored, safe 
From rude embrace of wanton waves or winds. 
That senses dull, like wine that slyly binds 
Its helpless victims at the jewelled feasts. 
Or like unto the sharp-fanged, snarling beasts. 
That strike with force their lawful prey but fail 
To stun them, as the gaping wound, the frail 
Life blots in crimson tide upon the floor 
Of tesselated flags. There, on the shore 
The ancient light-house stands, a smiling sign, 
With gleaming face and steady eye benign, 
The hope of sailors on the wintry seas. 
When anger whistles in the lightning breeze. 



33 



For centuries untold, it had withstood 

The force of gales, the winds, in captious mood, 

And still it rests from father unto child, 

Its care devised in sequence undefiled. 
Throughout the pallid Winter or the Spring, 
The Summer and the Autumn, passions sing 
In cadences, which never cease; the bleak 
Wind screams and moans, thus driving white- 
pained forth 
The furies of the waters, sudden then 
The winds sink to a low-breathed whisper, when 
The love-lorn wavelets rise to ecstasy. 
Attempting conquest of the powers that be: 
From south, from east, and from the scarlet west, 
The winds ran envious, on chaotic quest. 
All aimless in their wandering, eager, rife 
For cruelty, relentless for the strife, 
Which goads them restless on with flying heels. 
But who can tell the loneliness, which steals, 
The subtle sense of desolation drear. 

Upon the mind, it is not groundless fear. 
But horror, that must be with strength defeat, 
To save the tottering reason from escheat. 
And so preserve from budding jeopardy. 



34 



The guerdon of its own identity ? 

Ah r 'reader, if ye chance to read these hnes, 

Can*st reaHse the trembHng heart, that pines 

For loving sympathy of sweet converse 

With those of flesh, though we should not coerce 

Men, who, of loneliness, endure the pains, 

The watch-dogs of the ever-foaming plains; 

But man exists, who takes the means to live. 

And weaves the evil with the good, to give 

The best he has to his career, and sifts 

The chafF from sun-kissed wheat to use the gifts 

God gave him, sinking self into the shades. 

Those flaming, sacred, sacrificial glades. 

In which are burnt the dregs of all desires. 

That stem in infinite degree, the fires 

Which should so brightly glow before the Throne 

Of Heaven, when tasks are but a duty done. 

Not so young Jasper, who for six full moons. 

Had lived to aid his father on the dunes 

And arid wastes of this sad island home, 

A shrine of mercy in a vaulted dome: 

His was the task to trim the lamp, the eye 

Of human make, which saves from misery 

The fortunes of the toilers of the deep. 

At night the aged parent takes his sleep, 



35 



And then the son, who feeds the fluid oil, 
The matter grey, which crowns his nightly toil. 
Thus giveth steady light unto that brain. 

Which is the harbinger, upon the main. 
To those, who brave the terrors of the sea. 
Which heaveth sore impearled all grievously. 
Of late his days upon the land were spent. 
In some absorbing interest evident, 
Yet Jasper's occupation still shall be 
Unto his father, but a mystery; 
The older guessed the soft entanglement 
Of some sweet tender maid, as yet unshent, 
Whose tendrils delicate upon this stretch 
Of bareness, would droop and die: the wretch 
Who plucks a tender blossom from its chaste 
And comely garden, and upon a waste 
Thus plants it without nurture succulent 
For its support, commits a crime, and bent 
On pleasure rifts unto those distant stars 

The flaw in his poor lute, and thusly bars 
The way to happiness of love divine. 
Of gods and mortal men the nectar-wine. 
Another cause beyond the father's ken 
Lay coiled like poisoned asp, in tawny fen 
About the soul of Jasper; and his heart 



36 



Enchained with fetters, by a crafty art 

All forged and fastened, slaved him rabidly 

With yearnings girt with daily ecstasy. 

One afternoon, when lengthening shadows grew 

And darkened slowly, as the black bats flew 

More low to earth, he gave vent suddenly 

To blinding tears of futile agony. 

The blood in well-springs rising to his face. 

There, stared the eyes from out the mottled lace 

Of his complexion, sombre blotched with stains 

Amid the pallid white; his penanced pains 
Like snowy dews of death, a rosary. 
Stood on his brow in cold rigidity. 
Full many a time in frenzy wielded he, 
Of ruddy flowers from drowsy fields, the lee. 
To brew a beverage, and lo! the draught 
Brought rosy dreams alway, then loud he laughed 
To think his life oppressed could lightened be, 
By simple, quiet means so easily. 
But now the strength of noxious drugs was dulled, 
And on this luckless day in vain he culled 
The seeds of sleep to plant them in his pain, 
But woe, alas! his ever-throbbing brain 
Refused to yield the poppy harvest kind. 
The magic meadows of his ghostly mind, 
Wherein he wandered led by golden dreams; 



37 



Instead he woke with agonising screams, 

O'ercome; in anguish sudden staggered he 

Into his father's presence giddily. 

Then passed a horrid scene, when moments few, 

Are filled with such deep feeling, that anew 

The frozen tongue cleaves to the mouth-roof fast, 

E'en when the stage is blotted out, and passed 

The incident, still sobbing at the roots 

Of fear, as when, as if upon cleft lutes. 

Were there such croaking, grating, phrases heard, 

As those proceeding from the son, absurd, 

Unreasonable, and too ridiculous 

For deep consideration serious; 

The sign of minds that are diseased or ill. 

Which neither balance have nor conscious will. 

The climax came when father unto son 

Asked if the younger's nightly task was done; 

No word spoke Jasper, glaring like some beast: 

So pale he seemed, a death's head at the feast. 

That father stared in terror at his child. 

And marked his eye so bright, his looks so wild, 

That for a certain space, he dared not shift 

His own from lasper's white-faced glance, nor lift 

His agonising look to God to pray 

For help. The wind moaned, rising as the day 



38 



In sudden tension died, the while a cry, 

A distant shout for aid rang out nearby. 

An answer burst forth from his brazen throat. 

And rushed he to the ladder, that the boat 

Might see the beacon, though the son had failed 

To set it for the night, so it availed 

No succour for the nonce. Would God he might 

Endure, approach the dome and brand the light! 
A second cry, more urgent, nearer, shrill 
Broke on his ear, and at the sound, his will 
Relaxed, but quickly grasping firmly hold 
The rung below, he hung suspended, cold. 
Within the twinkling of an eye, two hands 
Were tightly clasped about his neck like bands 
Of steel. Alas! how short the uneven fight. 
As quick-breathed, he endured his awful plight; 
Yet as the blood surged in his ears, he found 
His knife, and struck the man, now bristled- 
crowned 
As any tiger, mad, through mist of red: 
He buried once the dirk, — his son was dead. 



39 



TO NANCY 

In tripping measures move your tiny feet 
Caressed by slippers of a crimson hue; 
Curved lips are parted when you start anew 
Your dainty dance of fascinating beat. 
So, blithesome now, in innocence complete 
You flit away beneath the vault of blue. 
Where angel faces e'er will smile on you 
And kiss your cheek with happiness, my sweet. 

No fairer painting would I ask to see, 
Which to a jewelled palace of the earth 
Has passed, in barter from some worldly mart, 
Than you, my little child of destiny. 
Who, first the princess at the hour of birth, 
Are now the goaler of my captive heart. 



40 



GOOD-NIGHT, SWEET 

With tiny arms about my neck thou'lt cling, 
And lisping phrases murmur in my ear, 
The while I bid thee, darling, not to fear, 
For angels flitting by on unseen wing 
A peaceful rest to thee will quickly bring; 
So kiss me, for the magic hour draws near 
When slumber like a skillful charioteer. 
Will guide thee on thy drowsy journeying. 

Alas! though God himself shall watch o'er thee. 

Beware the sandman, when he comes in sight, 

For eyes grow heavy as the sand is run. 

Until his task is ended craftily 

And consciousness is softly put to flight, . . 

Then, good-night, sweet; God bless my little one. 



41 



THE MESSAGE OF THE SEA 

Undaunted, yearning like the trackless sea, 
We blindly rush apace, unsatisfied. 
Till even as we crest the wave, we ride 
All face to face with brooding misery. 
We fail to recognise our destiny. 
Amid the mazes of desires untried. 
Though spirits of the sea have loudly cried 
Their message through the winds : Eternity. 

Is there an answer to the endless song ? 

Then, prithee tell me, where may it be found, 

In joy, or grief, in life, in death, or sleep .? 

Ask God Himself, Who knowing right from wrong, 

Alone can solve the riddle of the sound. 

Flashed o'er the foaming meadows of the deep. 



42 



THE TRUE RONDEAU 

The true rondeau should always smoothly go, 
Yet with design in its construction flow; 
Without an effort, but on reason based. 
Thoughts not germane should quickly be effaced. 
For, only thus the theme will clearly show. 

With ingenuity, you must bestow 
The exercise of care at first, and so 
Produce like Villon, with his lively taste. 

The true rondeau. 

If you have written now ten lines, you know 
The rhythm should be neither fast or slow; 
Though rules are made to be defied, yet haste 
Would spoil the whole, the singer be disgraced: 
So, now you see, within the after-glow. 

The true rondeau. 



43 



TWO VERSES 

When you write a triolet, 

All your phrases should run smoothly, 

For you pay the measures' debt 

When you write a triolet. 

And your muse should not forget, 

That the guiding rule is soothly. 

When you write a triolet 

All your phrases should run smoothly. 



Our words, when first we come into the world, 
Are lisped, because our teeth are young and new; 

Though, when life's span in fulness is unfurled. 
Our words are lisped, because our teeth are few. 



44 



IN A GARDEN FAIR 

I dreamed a velvet rose enchanted me, 
Blown forward by the tender South wind's stress 
And swept in its own blithe unconsciousness 
Light kisses wrought of airy phantasy 
Upon my cheek, while I breathed quietly, 
For fear the fleeting charm of its caress. 
Like touch of living hands now motionless 
In death, should vanish in eternity. 

All roses fade, their petals one by one 
Will fall to earth and dying disappear. 
But echoes stay within the heart, the cry 
Of tiny voices lives in mine, all spun 
With silver threads of love; her voice I hear 
And sudden catch my baby's laughing eye. 



45 



GO! LITTLE BOOK 

Go! little book into the haunts of men; 
Go! let the public judge thee, as it will. 
To me thou art a fragment, like some rill, 
Which plashing goes by fields and moorland glen 
Towards the dark and distant ending, when 
Thus carried past the loudly roaring mill. 
It swiftly meets the restless deep, until 
Within its depths 'tis lost and found again. 

The world is like unto the striving sea. 

Kind if it nothing costs, and cruel where 

Mere sympathy is craved, relentless, for 

Of anger subtle, it can never be, 

In criticism just and free as air: 

Go! little book, I cannot help thee more. 



46 



VLD^-j:.- 



